


Alert Status, Amber

by alexjanna91



Series: Adventures in Babysitting (Apple Pie Life) [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Dean Winchester, Case Fic, Gen, Kid Fic, Kidnapping, Monster of the Week, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:16:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1952901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexjanna91/pseuds/alexjanna91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew it was only a matter of time. He knew that eventually the life would come knocking. Even with that bone deep knowledge Dean was still unprepared when the doorbell finally rang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alert Status, Amber

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: [Fic Spoiler] I did perfunctory research on Tasers and no research on the sewer system, so if anything is completely wrong kindly ignore it.

Dean had been watching for it. It was really only a matter of time. You don’t spend your entire life hunting the supernatural, hovering on the fringes of society -being the thing that things are afraid of- without becoming a beacon for the supernatural. Somewhat like a roach motel; Hunters go in, but they don’t come back out again.

Still, Dean had a surge of guilt when the knots in his stomach loosened with relief as he caught the pattern of disappearances. It had been wishful thinking, complete idealism to even think he could have gotten out of the game entirely. He’d been half waiting for it since the moment he stepped up to Lisa’s absurdly normal welcome mat after his brother took the plunge. Now that the other shoe had dropped it was a relief.

See, the thing about hunting, throwing yourself into the dark of the night over and over again, that kind of taint never washes off. You can run, retire, turn a blind eye all you want, but eventually it will find you again. It will dig in its claws and drag you back in. 

Dean had promised Sammy he’d try and live that every day apple pie life with white picket fences and Sunday cookouts and baseball practice and he’d actually tried. But what Sam never seemed to remember or understand was that once you’re in the life you can never really leave. 

Sam left for four years and his girlfriend was burned up on the ceiling kicking him right back into the life he never wanted. Their mother, Mary, lived the normal life, had the house and the husband and the kids; ten years later the life came calling and she burned up on the ceiling of Sam’s nursery. 

Dean made a promise on what was essentially his brother’s deathbed, but now there were kids going missing on their way home from school and the police had no leads. 

The whole thing smacked of the supernatural and Dean was going to be damned (again) if he just turned a blind eye to missing kids. 

_Sorry, Sammy._ He thought to himself as he pulled up the news articles online and watched clips from the local news channel on their website, John’s journal and his own open in front of him on the desk, a map marked with each disappearance in red ink pinned to the wall above his laptop. _Looks like the life isn’t quite done with me yet._

*

The area where the kids disappeared from was highly populated and highly child friendly. Sitting on a bench in the neighborhood park with a gun in the back of his pants, a knife in each boot, his EMF meter in his right jacket pocket, and a flask of holy water in his left, Dean scanned the area and watched the comings and goings around him. 

The park wasn’t the only child friendly draw in a five block radius. The elementary school was only two blocks down and the community pool was three blocks up. It was child central, Dean had counted twenty kids walking in small groups or with their parents even with the disappearances and he’d only been sitting there thirty minutes. 

It was amazing a supernatural fugly hadn’t moved in before now. This area was a smorgasbord of Supernatural fare.

There were five kids missing as of yesterday and Dean wasn’t about to let that number rise any higher if he could help it. He’d already swept the entire area around the park, the elementary school, and the pool for EMF and it was all clean. He wasn’t really expecting it to be a demon, but he’d Christo’d and holy water sprinkled anyone that even breathed suspiciously; he’d already called Bobby to ask about any spell, ritual, or summoning that required the sacrifice of children of no discriminant age, race, or heritage. There was nothing that needed five kids with no discernable connection other than the usual, so Dean was thinking it was a safe bet to go with hungry monster as his number one suspect. 

Not that he liked that idea any better than skeevy witch, pissy spirit, or pervy demon, but he was pretty damned sure it wasn’t a human that was stealing these kids. For one thing the victimology was all over the place. Four boys covering ages five, nine, eleven, and twelve and two girls at ages seven and nine; two black kids, one Asian kid, and three white kids. 

There wasn’t a human pervert out there that could take five kids that diverse in the time span of a week without getting his ass caught faster than an armless pick-pocket. Not without leaving witnesses, disturbances, and or clues.

So, hungry monster with a taste for prepubescent flesh it was. Super.

Dean was not looking forward to doing this hunt alone. He already scouted all the routes in and out of the park that a monster could take without being spotted during the afternoon end of school rush. There was a manhole cover on the street across from the slide and swing set and there was a drainage creek that disappeared into the sewer under a bridge on the pool side of the park across from the jungle gym. If he had to take a guess he’d put his money on the concrete lined drainage creek under the bridge. Plenty of cover from the trees growing around the creek and it would be easy to snatch at an ankle or dangling arm and drag the kid bellow. 

Now he just had to figure out which kid eating monster he was hunting for. He’d narrowed it down to about twenty-three different monsters, but he needed more information to go on. 

Dean sighed and rubbed tiredly at his forehead. He was going to have to go to the police station, wasn’t he? Looking around at the anxious parents escorting their kids home and the kids huddled together in tight nervous knots as they walked, he knew where he would likely get that information from. 

Well, guess it’s a good thing he’s sort of, kind of got an in with a detective down at the local law enforcement agency. Dean just hoped Hart didn’t slap him in cuffs the moment he stepped through the door.

*

Local 5-0 headquarters was a picture of controlled chaos. There were phones ringing for the tip line that’d been advertised on the news and cops of every rank and department were scurrying around like very busy chickens with their heads cut off. 

Wishing he hadn’t listened to his better judgment and left his gun in the car, Dean shrugged off naked feeling that being unarmed gave him, took a steadying breath and stepped into the chaos. A task force had been assembled and Dean headed straight for their little secluded corner knowing without having to ask that Detective Hart would be smack in the middle of it all. The guy had workaholic-semi-abscent-father guilt written all over him; no way would he sit by while kids were going missing.

The giant cork board at the center of all the hubbub had five pictures lined up in order of disappearance. 

First; Michael Braunston, 9, and his brother Daniel, 5. Second; Jeremy Carver, 12. Third; Akiko Higorashi, 7. And fourth; Justin Hart, 11, and his sister Emily, 9.

Fuck. Dean let out a hiss and mentally kicked himself. He should have tried harder to get the kids names before stepping into the police station. The news reports hadn’t given names, but Dean knew it wasn’t impossible to find that information. Sam had always been better at hacking information from uncooperative sources than he had, though.

Reaching out a hand and snagging the first uniformed sleeve to pass him, Dean demanded, “Detective Hart, where is he?”

The young cop eyed Dean up and down and didn’t seem to like the look of him. “Who are you?”

“I’m a friend. I just heard about his kids.” Dean answered pasting on his best schmoozing smile and hoping he didn’t look like a crazy child kidnapper or anything. 

The cop, Mitchel, his uniform patch said, just scoffed. “Hart doesn’t have friends that aren’t on the force.” He shook off Dean’s hand sneering suspiciously. “In any case, I can’t tell you where he is, it’s against protocol.”

Dean had a split second to curse internally before Mitchel was eyeing him again this time with his hand resting on his gun holster threateningly. 

“What did you say your name was again?”

Face frozen in his broad, all teeth, fake smile, Dean had a heartbeat before a cover story the most likely to just get him kicked out of the precinct and not tossed in a jail cell popped into his head. 

“Duff McKagan, associated press.” 

A minute and a half later, Dean was almost literally tossed out on his ass. He didn’t get any more information than he already had, he didn’t know what he was hunting, but at least now he knew where his best bet to get answers would be. Good thing there was a library across the street. He didn’t think those trigger happy cops would be likely to hand over Hart’s address. 

He would say free internet and online yellow pages was a godsend if he was on speaking terms with the big guy. Since he wasn’t, Dean was just thankful that Hart’s address wasn’t unlisted.

*

Detective Jeffery Hart lived in a good middle class neighborhood in a good school district about three blocks away from the park where his kids had gone missing. 

Dean stood on the street in front of his house and felt really awkward about going up to his door and knocking. He didn’t actually get the chance before an unmarked pulled up and parked behind the Impala. 

The driver door popped open and Dean felt his shoulders tense. Detective Ashley Boltz was Hart’s partner, she’d been with him when the Grant twins had run away into the Greenbelt. The look on her face was serious and grave. She closed the door behind her and strode over to stand in front of Dean and stare at him with an unreadable look. 

“I should arrest you for loitering outside a cop’s house the day after his kids have been snatched.” Boltz said, her expression and her voice were actually intimidating. Dean was rather impressed. Her blond pony-tail and her small frame made her look better suited to cheerleading or pep squad than chasing after three hundred pound hopheads, but right then she looked every inch the overachieving cop. 

She still wouldn’t be able to take Dean in a fight, but he suspected she’d give him a hell of a hard time before he took her down. 

“But you’re not going to arrest me.” He responded looking her right in the eyes and letting her study him, read the truth in his gaze. 

“Why’s that?” She asked, not quite ready to buy what he’s selling just yet. 

“Cause I might know what took those kids.” Dean said not worried about parsing and tiptoeing around wording and lies at the moment. He had a bunch of worried jumpy cops running around looking for a pervert and a small, highly trained suspicious rookie detective staring him down. He wasn’t going to lie. “And I can get them back.” 

“How do you know they’re not already dead?” 

“I don’t, and you won’t find any bodies if they are. The only way to even have a hope of getting those kids back alive is if you let me do my job.” He told her letting her read his every expression and twitch of his face, letting her see just how deadly serious he was. 

“What you’re not outright saying, but what I’m hearing is impossible.” Boltz asserted, reluctant to just let him walk up the path to Hart’s front door. 

Dean snorted and shrugged unconcerned. “Detective, this is what I do.”

“I thought you were in pest control before you sent in for your spoonful of sugar and your bottomless magic tote bag.” She tossed back at him.

Letting out a wry laugh, Dean shrugged and turned back to Hart’s house. “Pest control seemed like the best approximation at the time and you’d be amazed what can be hiding in people’s basements.” 

Ashley Boltz stared him down for a moment more, not amused. Suddenly she hissed through her teeth and muttered, “I must be out of my mind,” before she turned back toward Hart’s front door and beckoned him sharply to follow her.

Stepping into Hart’s house was like stepping into a vat of restless worry and misplaced blame. Hart’s wife was tear stained and angry, shifting between glaring accusingly at her husband and wringing her hands around her snot covered tissue. Hart himself was sitting hunched over with his head in his hands on one of their dining room chairs as far away from his wife as he could get and still be in the same room. 

Dean took a moment to scope out the room before he approached Hart. There were a few cops sitting in awkward busy work silence around a phone tapping and tracing unit on the dining room table. The couch had a pile of wrinkled sheets on one end and a flat abused pillow on the other. 

Wincing, Dean felt a wave of sympathy for Hart. Poor guy couldn’t catch break. His kids were missing possibly being eaten by a monster out of your worst nightmare and his wife had consigned him to the couch; for a while now if the stack of well used crime novels and the empty bottle of sleeping pills on the coffee table were anything to go by. 

“Detective Hart.” Dean called turning his attention back to the reason he was risking making himself suspect number one. 

Jeffery Hart snapped his head up like a shot and pinned Dean with eyes gritty and red with sleepless nights and unimaginable worry.

“Campbell,” he breathed a bastard mix of horror and hope washing over his face before he wiped it blank. He stood and strode toward Dean like he didn’t even know his feet were moving.

“What are you doing here, Campbell?” Hart demanded when he reached Dean drawing the attention of the cops and his scornful wife. 

“I’m just here to help, Detective,” Dean assured him quietly so that only he and Boltz could hear. “Let’s talk in the kitchen.”

Jeffery stared into the eyes of the wanted, _dead_ criminal before him for a long moment then finally nodded and led the way into the kitchen waving off the concerned looks from his fellow police officers in his dining room. He hadn’t realized Boltz had followed them until he turned around and leaned heavily against the sink. 

Glancing from Campbell to his partner, Jeffery realized that Dean wasn’t going to speak his peace until they were alone and Ashley wasn’t going to leave until she knew everything they did. 

That’s the thing about actually trusting your partner, Jeffery realized. You have to tell them your secrets eventually. 

“She stays.” He stated, staring the other man down when Dean looked like he was going to protest. 

Looking between Boltz and Hart, Dean sighed. He knew the look on her face, had seen it on Sammy’s countless times and he recognized the look on Hart’s face from seeing it staring back at him in the mirror. They were all in this unbelievable and undoubtedly incriminating conversation together. 

He nodded and jumped right in. “Hart, you haven’t asked me what it is I used to do that got me on the FBI’s most wanted and I don’t think you’d believe me even if I told you, but you’re going to have to trust me because I’m the only one that has a hope of getting your kids back.” 

“You were on the FBI’s most wanted list?” Boltz burst out, just barely keeping her voice quiet enough not to draw the attention of the cops in the next room. 

“He’s legally dead, Ashley.” Hart said sparing her outraged expression a quick glance. “A few years ago, before you joined the force, there was a big hullabaloo about the FBI chasing after a couple of brothers, serial killers traveling around from town to town killing people, robbing graves, and using fake credit cards.”

Ashley just turned to look at her partner, face slack with incredulous shock. “You haven’t arrested him?” She paused and her face cleared of emotion abruptly. “You didn’t tell me?” 

“I’ve been legally dead for three years, darling.” Dean reminded her wryly. “And it ain’t like Sam and I actually did half the things they tried to pin on us anyway.” 

Hart shot Dean a quelling look, and turned his full attention back on the young detective before him. “I’ve read their file. It has more holes, inadmissible circumstantial evidence, and conflicting witness statements than a Bigfoot sighting. I don’t think they’re exactly innocent,” Dean scoffed and was ignored, “but I don’t think he or his brother did all that they were being accused of.”

Jeffery shifted awkwardly when Ashley’s expression didn’t soften, he could read the hurt and insecurity underneath the stiff blank mask. “Mostly innocent and legally dead, they might be, but they’re still wanted and if you didn’t recognize him I wasn’t going to risk incriminating you as well if my choice to let him walk backfired.”

Ashley stood in silence for a moment then sighed deeply and turned to Dean who’d been watching them silently, waiting for her to decide if he should head for the nearest exit or stay and get what information he could from Hart. 

“You said you could get the kids back.” She said, making her decision and his. He nodded. “Well? We’re waiting.” She prompted impatiently.

Huffing a dryly amused breath, Dean braced himself and started to lay it all out. 

“Alright, this thing that took the kids, it’s not your regular pervert predator.” He said. “But you guys already figured that out. The victimology and method of abduction don’t add up.” 

“We have been exploring some kind of black market slavery ring theory,” Boltz spoke up, her face serious and attentive.

“And that would be a good theory, if your suspect was human.” 

“What exactly are you saying?” Hart demanded, not in the mood to parse words.

“I’m saying that no human would be able to abduct six kids within a week and not be seen.” Dean answered not intimidated in the least. “We’re dealing with something that is fast, strong, determined, smart and hungry.” 

There was silence for a moment. “Hungry?” Hart breathed. “What do you mean, ‘hungry’?”

Dean almost winced. He hadn’t really been meaning to say that bit. Civilians never responded well to that part. “This thing is not human, it doesn’t have human needs. From what I was able to get from the abduction site it most likely lives in dark, damp places, it doesn’t like the light, it has very specific dietary habits, and it takes children.” He answered and paused. The looks on Boltz and Hart’s faces said they were quietly horrified by what they’d just heard. 

“Easy prey.” Hart surmised his face pale and pained.

“Yeah.” Dean watched the detective for a moment. When the man lifted his head and gave him a determined look he went on. “I can get your kids. I know its hunting ground and I know the most likely place where it’ll hole up. This is my job. This is what I do and I promise you, I will get your kids and kill the thing that took them, or I will die trying.” 

“I figured there wouldn’t be any perp to arrest.” Hart said after a tense moment, deciding not to acknowledge the heavy weight Dean’s pledge laid on his shoulders. 

Face hardened, Dean looked the older man in the eyes expounded, “It doesn’t officially exist. It’s not human. It doesn’t even understand human rules. You kill it or it will keep taking kids. There is no other way.” 

Jeffery felt every cop bone in his body protesting the idea of just letting this dangerous man go looking for his kids alone. He ached with the need to go himself, to beat the ever living shit out the monster –mythological or human- that dared to touch his children. From the moment the first kid had been taken without a single shred of evidence or witness or lead, he’d known that this wasn’t something he or his precinct was prepared to combat, and that thought rankled.

He looked at the not-dead Dean Winchester standing in his kitchen with a concealed handgun in the back of his jeans, at least two knives strapped to his legs and arms each, and a flask of something he was no longer sure was alcohol in the pocket of his battered leather jacket. He looked at the man that evaded FBI pursuit for three years and faked his own death twice. He thought about the holes in the file and evidence that didn’t add up and the witness statements that swore up and down and sideways that Dean and Sam Winchester had saved their lives from a nine hundred pound bear, a crooked cop, an evil twin that wasn’t, a cannibalistic family. And those were just the marginally believable stories. 

By all rights he should chalk this up to insanity and be cuffing Dean while he dialed the FBI. By all rights his children should be safe at home complaining about having to do their homework not God only knows where held hostage by God only knows what.

Closing his eyes, he pushed down the years of ingrained procedure and rules and went with his gut. Opening his eyes, he looked at Dean once more. 

“What do you need?” 

Dean seemed almost surprised by his relatively quick acquiescence and acceptance of the impossible.

“For starters I need any and all the information the cops have compiled, especially the weird shit that doesn’t make any sense, and secondly I need to not be arrested when I go to the park. In fact I need all the cops out of the general vicinity if possible. I don’t need to worry about watching my back and theirs.” He said. 

Hart glanced at Boltz . They shared a speaking look before she nodded sharply, pulled her phone out and started dialing as she moved to the other side of the room for a measure of privacy.

“What else?” Hart prompted.

Dean had been adding and recalculating and putting together the clues he’d scraped together while talking with the detective and he was still at a loss as to exactly which monster it was he was hunting for. 

“If I don’t have the correct tools in my arsenal I might need your help getting them.”

“That can be arranged.” Hart agreed. “Now, you said anything weird.”

“Yeah. I noticed the tip line was blowing up when I went to the cop shop looking for you. Any eyewitness that saw something freaky or impossible?”

Less than seven minutes later, Hart had sent one of the gaggle of cops wandering around his house back to the precinct to get the stack of tapes with the disregarded tips.

Looking at the stack of tapes that could rival Dean’s collection of cock rock in his car, he huffed out a dismayed breath. “There is not nearly enough time to go through them all and still hope those kids haven’t become monster chow.”

Hart disregarded the tactless language and sighed. “Tell us what to look for and between the three of us we can get through them in a third of the time.”

“Alright.” Dean gave Hart and Boltz a quick list of what to listen for. Soon the three of them were ensconced in an out of the way corner methodically going through the taps and ignoring the puzzled, suspicious looks from the other cops and the glaring anger from Hart’s wife.

Dean multitasked between listening to crazy people just trying to get attention and looking through all the hard evidence the cops had found at the scene of the “crime” which, unsurprisingly, was not much.

Around the forth old lady calling in to report a skulking peeping tom who was obviously the one that took those kids, Dean was beyond frustrated, but Ashley suddenly ripped off her headphones and stared jotting down what looked like an address and phone number before looking up to Dean and Hart’s expectant looks. 

“I think I found something.” She handed Dean the head phones and pressed play when they were firmly on his head.

Dean braced himself for another old lady and was mildly surprised that it was not in fact an octogenarian.

_“911 hotline.”_

_“Yeah, man, like I totally know what took those kids, man.”_ Came the voice of a dude that obviously indulged a little too much in the ganga.

_“What did you see, sir?”_ asked the stoic, professional dispatcher.

_“Like it was totally a monster, man. Like with claws and shit. It just grabbed this kid and dragged it under the bridge man. I was like ‘holy shit dude!’ it was totally freaky.”_ Mr. Stoner described barely comprehensibly. Dean had to drag up his rusty Rastafarian translator to not be distracted by the crap grammar and lack of varying diction.

_“Sir, this is a serious police tip line and we do not follow up on-”_

Dean stopped the recording and pulled the headphones off looking at Hart and Boltz’s expectant faces. 

“I need to talk to this guy.”

Thirty seconds later Dean and Hart were arguing over whether or not he was going to let Dean go off to interview a witness without a police escort.

“No, I work alone,” or at least Dean does since his partner was now playing chew toy for the devil.

“I’m not just going to let you interview a witness alone regardless if I’m choosing to trust you with this or not.” Hart said, not backing down. “I can’t go without raising too many questions so you take Boltz with you that way you’ll at least have a legitimate excuse for sticking your nose in a police investigation if anyone asks.”

Dean could tell the other man wasn’t going to bend on this so he just cursed under his breath. “Fine, but you follow my lead. Otherwise, you can stay quiet and play babysitter.” He pointed at Boltz with a scowl.

“Fine.” She repeated with a scowl of her own and turned toward the front door stalking out obviously just as unhappy as Dean.

Before he could follow, Dean was stopped by a tight unyielding grip on his arm. 

“I’m trusting you with my children, Dean. If you prove my trust misplaced, there won’t be a body for FBI to arrest by the time I’m done with you.” Hart was deadly serious and Dean acknowledged and accepted those terms with a just as serious nod before continuing on his way.

When he got to his car he saw Boltz heading for her own car and Dean immediately declared, “Ah, no, sweetheart. We’re taking my car. The only way I’m getting into a cop car again is in cuffs or unconscious.”

Ashley pushed down the immediate urge to feed him his teeth at the condescending endearment, but grudgingly acknowledge the advantage of taking a vehicle that wasn’t low jacked and was relatively untraceable by the police despite how visually conspicuous said vehicle was.

“Fine.” She said again and altered her course to the passenger side of the black beast Dean Winchester drove.

A creak of door hinges, a bone rattling growl of the engine turning over later and they were speeding down the road toward the stoner tipster’s house. Ashley had to sit on her reflex to tell him he was driving too fast and instead settled for interrogating him on what exactly he thought he was going to get from their witness.

“He didn’t sound like he’ll remember what he ate for breakfast much less what he witnessed three days ago.” 

“Seeing a monster grab a kid isn’t something you just forget no matter how much pot you smoke afterward.” Dean said.

“How much experience do you really have interviewing uncooperative witnesses,” Ashley persisted. “It’s not like people will just let you walk into their homes and start telling you unbelievable things involving monsters.”

Dean smirked, and flicked his eyes over to see her openly skeptical expression before turning them back to the road. “They’ll let you in if you have a cheap suit and a fake badge when you knock on their door.”

She looked at him, shocked at his nerve before scowling again and turned back to stare out the windshield in silence.

They pulled up to a one story relatively unkempt house with more weeds then grass in the front lawn, chipped paint, rickety porch chairs and an overflowing ash tray full of singed roaches precariously set on the porch railing. 

Dean strolled up the cracked walk confidently, bounded up the creaking porch steps, and pounded on the shaky screen door. There was a muffled thump, some incomprehensible cursing and rattling of three deadbolts unlocking before a ruffled, bloodshot eyed, unshaven face peeked out and squinted at them.

The glaringly stoned tipster stared at them for a long moment before he hedged, “Sorry, man, I didn’t order a pizza.”

Ashley raised an incredulous eyebrow, but Dean just yanked the screen door open and shoved his way into the house completely ignoring the half-hearted protests from their witness.

“Hey, come on, man! This is my house.”

Dean spared a second to glance around before getting right to the point. “We’re here to follow up on the tip you called in to the cops.”

The stoner shifted uncomfortably and sent a not at all subtle glance toward the two foot red glass bong sitting on his coffee table.

Ashley rolled her eyes and stepped around Dean to stand next to him. “We’re not here to bust you. We just want to find out what you saw.”

“We don’t care about the weed. We care about the monster.” Dean said.

“You believe me?” Stoner-Dude asked dubiously.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Dean nodded.

Stoner-Dude stared at him for a second then nodded back. “Okay, man. What do you want to know?”

“Everything you saw, even if it sounds unbelievable or seems unimportant. I need as much detail as you can remember.” 

Scratching his nose, Stoner-Dude looked like he was thinking harder than he’d thought in the last year. Ashley figured it was at least a good thing that he seemed to actually want to help regardless of whether he would be any. She still wasn’t holding her breath about that.

“Well, I was like walking through the park ‘cause I had a major case of the munchies, you know, and the cart on the other end of the street has like the best corndogs, man. They’re seriously made of orgasms and unicorn farts or something.” 

“Yeah, got it, awesome corndogs.” Dean interrupted without nearly enough impatience Ashley expected considering the utter ridiculousness coming out of their witness’s mouth. “Get to the part where the monster snatched the kid.”

“It was just like I said, dude. There was this little girl like hanging over the railing on the bridge reaching for a flower off a branch of some kind of flowery bush or whatever. Then suddenly this like thing jumped up from the creek and snatched the kid by arm and yanked her down into the creek. I ran over, you know to see if maybe I was just imaging it, like maybe that doobie I smoked was laced with something, but when I looked over the railing there was nothing ‘cept a drag mark in the green crap that grows on the bottom of the creek.”

“What can you remember about what the monster looked?” Dean pressed. “Anything. Did it have claws, fur, what?”

“Whoa, man.” The Stone put his hands up like it would slow Dean’s suddenly impatient demands for information. “I don’t know; I just saw its arm, man. It was like a monster arm.”

“Yeah, but what did the arm look like?” Dean growled, and Ashely was afraid she’d have to hold him back from shaking the information out of the stoner.

“I don’t know!” Stoner-Dude took a step back and looked a little afraid of the intense look on Dean’s face. “Was like leathery and stuff, had patches of hair like it had ring-worm or something, and claws, man. Like really gross long claws.”

There was absolute silence for a moment and Ashely was a little worried by the complete lack of expression on Dean’s face. 

Suddenly, a mask of professionalism appeared over the blankness. 

“Thanks man, that helps a lot.” He said and he sounded completely sincere. 

Stoner-Dude looked just as surprised and Ashely felt. “Really?”

“Really.” Dean repeated and turned back toward the door. “Thanks again, dude. I’ll see about getting you that reward the cops are offering for information.”

“Wait, seriously?” Stoner sounded happily surprised and Ashley was a step away from strangling Dean. 

None of this made sense and everything was so far out of what she believed to be inalienable truths of her world that she was struggling to keep her feet in the middle of all the upheaval.

“I’ll make it happen, dude.” Dean called over his shoulder as he slammed out of the house leaving Stoner-Dude and Ashely staring after him in bewilderment. 

With a last hurried thank you to the witness, Ashely rushed after Dean and just caught up to him as he wrenched open the driver’s side door to his black behemoth. Hurrying to get in the car before Dean burned rubber away from the curb, Ashley settled into the bench seat and stared at him in incomprehension. 

“What did you find out?” She asked. 

“I found out what it is exactly I’m hunting.” He replied with an emotionless voice that made Ashley’s gut clench. 

“What exactly is it that you think took the children?” She was almost afraid to ask.

Dean suddenly cursed slammed his palm angrily against the steering wheel and cursed again before his shockingly unexpected display of anger stopped as abruptly as it had started leaving only stillness and silence behind.

Watching him warily, Ashley decided not press, to wait quiet and patient for an answer.

She waited the entire drive back to Jeffery’s house. Dean parked in front of the house, turned off the engine and sat in his seat unnaturally still, before he finally released a sigh and scrubbed a tired hand through his short spikey hair. 

Pulling the keys from the ignition, Dean paused before stepping out of the car and glanced over at Boltz, face grave and expression bleak. Then he answered her question. 

“The boogieman.”

*

“A Taser?” Hart repeated mildly incredulous. “You’ve got a gun in the back of your pants, knives all over your body and an arsenal hidden somewhere I’m sure, but you need a Taser?”

“A specific weapon for a specific kind of pest.” Dean shrugged. “All a bullet in the chest is gonna do is piss it off. I need electricity for this fucker and lots of it.”

Jeffery wanted to ask what other specialized equipment Dean has had to use for his “pest control” business, but decided against it. Now wasn’t the time; not with his children and four other kids’ lives hanging in the balance. Plus, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Got the area cleared, boss.” Ashely said, as she snapped her phone closed from checking that her earlier request had been met and stepped back into the conversation. “There isn’t a cop or anyone else within at least two blocks of the park.”

“Good.” He sighed and nodded at her approvingly. He looked back at Dean. “Tell me again what you think took my kids.”

“It’s called a rawhead.” Dean repeated for the third time. “It’s a type of boogieman. Usually lives in basements where it’s dark and damp, but if the conditions are right it’s not surprising that it set up shop in a drainage ditch.”

Hart pinch the bridge of his nose and tried to reconcile this information into his world view. “And what does it want with kids?” He asked and then immediately wished he hadn’t, because he already knew. Dean had already told them the most likely reason why a monster would target children. He didn’t need the reminder and Dean seemed to recognize this because he didn’t answer.

Instead he shifted the discussion back to the matter at hand. “So, about that Taser.”

Hart turned and gestured to Boltz. “Walk Mr. Campbell out and give him your police issue Taser. It’s got more amperage than a Taser sold to the general public. If you need a lot of electricity for this _thing_ then that will definitely give it to you.” 

“Awesome.” Dean turned and strode out the door without any further words.

Ashley raised a still dubious eyebrow at her partner, but followed Jeffery’s orders and followed Dean outside without another word.

Turning toward her unmarked, Ashley popped the trunk and fished through her scattered police issued paraphernalia till she came out with two police issued Tasers and turned to find Dean Campbell watching her silently. 

She held out the weapons, but when Dean reached to take them from her she didn’t release them. Ashley looked into this man’s, this mysterious, possibly insane criminal’s eyes and said, “If I find out you had anything to do with those kids’ disappearance, if I find out you’ve been stringing my partner along, I don’t care if the FBI couldn’t find you, I swear to God I will hunt you down and put a bullet in your head.” 

Dean held her gaze and blew out a breath. That was a very similar threat to her partner’s and yeah, he definitely had respect for this little cheer squad cop. He knew from the look in her eyes that she was deadly serious.

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded finally pulling the Tasers from her grip, his mouth was suddenly dry, but he was still determined. “Ten-Four.”

“Good.” She nodded satisfied and slammed her truck shut. “Now go get those kids.”

He was in his car, pulling away and speeding down the street with all due haste and absolutely no fanfare. Detective Ashley Boltz watched his tail lights disappear and prayed that her and Jeffery’s faith wasn’t misplaced. 

*

The drainage tunnel connected to the drainage creek was almost large enough for Dean to stand up in until he got about a block in then he was bent at the waist and trudging through ankle high sludge that smelled rancid enough to singe his nose hairs. 

Eventually it would let out into the underground sewage and he would be able stand straight, but now his back was protesting mightily and he was lamenting the fact that he was both out of shape for a hunter and not getting any younger. Used to be that he could crawl through tunnels and bend into tight places in ways that shouldn’t be possible for a man of his size, but now he was in his thirties and Dean just knew that he was going to be aching something fierce in the morning.

Thankfully it wasn’t before too long that Dean finally reached the end of the tunnel and came out into the service section of the sewer system. There was still a nasty rainwater drainage flow running down the center of the floor, but there was a raised walkway on either side about two feet wide. 

Dean continued on, leading with his flashlight and Taser. It would have been a lie if he said he wasn’t a little bit nervous about this hunt. After all, last time he’d hunted a rawhead he’d had a major heart attack, three weeks to live, and miracle healing by a reaper on a leash. It was not comforting or fun thoughts that he carried with him as trudged further and further into the tunnels. 

He hadn’t been walking more than ten minutes before he heard it; a faint sniffle and whimper, a muffled sob and hitch of breath. Yahtzee.

Hurrying forward he came to a small dark alcove. His flashlight illuminated the five frightened faces huddled tight together. 

“Where is it?” He demanded, though his voice was calm and gentle. 

The little Asian girl, Akiko, sniffled but pointed further down the tunnel. “Down there.” Her breath hitched again. “It took Jeremy!” She dissolved into near silent tears. 

Shit. He hated this, the uncertainty that when he eventually found the monster it could be snacking on a kid. He hated not coming back with all the victims. He hated being too late.

He did a quick visual scan of the kids. Michael, Daniel, Akiko, Justin and Emily all looked relatively unharmed; hungry, thirsty, and scared out of their minds, but not hurt. 

“Are any of you hurt?” He asked just for confirmation.

The kids shook their heads after Justin said, “I hit my head when it grabbed me, but I’m fine.”

“Good.” Dean reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the second Taser. “Have any of you shot a gun before?”

The kids all looked around at each other before Justin and Emily shakily raised their hands. “Our dad took us to a gun range once and let us shoot his pistol.”

Dean beckoned Justin forward and handing him the Taser grip first. “This is a Taser. This monster can only be killed by electricity. If it comes back before I do. Point and shoot it center mass. Got it?”

With a heavy dry swallow, Justin nodded and shakily took the Taser from Dean’s hand. “Yeah, I-I can do that.”

“Alright.” Dean nodded and looked each kid in the eye making sure they could each see the sincerity and certainty in his eyes. “Stay down, stay quiet, and stay put. I will come back for you.”

He nodded at them firmly, gave Justin a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and turned back down the tunnel. He readjusted his grip on his Taser and his flash light, took a deep breath and silently moved forward. 

This was going to suck balls, he just knew it.

The tunnel got darker the further along Dean traversed. Every shadow was menacing, every sound was the monster just around the corner. Dean felt like he was so rusty that he was almost as jumpy as a newbie. It was a tad embarrassing. He was measuring his breathing, straining his ears and sniffing the air looking for the telltale smell of putrid, badly kept molding leather. 

Rawheads spent so much time in dark and damp places it wasn’t uncommon for them to actually start to mold. It wasn’t a pleasant odor, obviously, but it was very distinctive. 

He had been walking for ten minutes before the first signs of a rawhead feeding lair appeared. It was nearly pitch black, only the light of Dean’s flashlight illuminating the path in front of him. He had been afraid that he’d already passed it up and in that case Jeremy was already dead and monster main course. 

Thankfully the signs of rawhead were obvious and Dean sped up his pace rounding a corner so fast his boots skidded on the slick mildew covered floor. Of course it helped that it sounded like Jeremy was putting up a fight. The silence was split by screaming and the sounds of a struggle. 

The kid was no match for a supernaturally strong monster, but at least he wasn’t making the thing’s snacking easy on it. Every second of delay helped. 

A beam of light from his flashlight cut through the dark and fell on the seven foot rawhead; its dark leathery skin and patchy hair making it almost impossible to distinguish from the darkness around it if not for the beam of light. Jeremy was squirming and kicking for all he was worth, white faced and scared out of his wits, tears streaking down his face and blood soaking his t-shirt where the creature’s claws had torn into his skin. 

Suddenly, Dean was clear headed and steady as a rock. His instincts, ingrained over a lifetime, kicked in like a shifting of gears.

“Hey!” He bellowed, getting the thing’s attention like a spotlight in the dark. “No means no, Bitch!”

Its reaction to the interruption was immediate. The rawhead threw the little boy away and lunged at Dean almost too fast for the eye to follow. It barreled into Dean like a freight train forcing the breath from his lungs and a shout of surprise from his throat. 

He didn’t have a chance in a one on one with a rawhead, but he had to keep the thing distracted and away from Jeremy. He could have shot the thing with the Taser when he’d first turned the corner, but the boy was too close. For all that a rawhead’s only weakness is electricity they are majorly inconvenient conductors. Dean found this out the hard way. He wouldn’t have taken nearly the amount of damage he had last time, even with the standing water he was sitting in, if it hadn’t been for the rawhead acting as a fugly supernatural lightning rod. 

The rawhead thrust with a hand and Dean’s shoulder was abruptly on fire. “Son of a bitch!” It tore its claws out of the meaty flesh of Dean’s body wrenching a cry of pain from the hunter’s lips. 

Okay, now _that_ was a dirty move. The blood quickly soaking Dean’s chest, the pain, the frustration, his ruthlessly ignored fear, the sound of Jeremy’s uncontrollable crying; it all smashed down on Dean like a ton of bricks and he was just so done with this bastard. 

“Jeremy!” Dean shouted as he brought a knee up between the rawhead’s legs hitting it square in the crotch, it wouldn’t hurt it –since it was junkless and all-, but it would throw it off balance. “Get to the wall! Get out of the water!”

Holding the monster at bay with one straining hand at its throat, Dean thrust the other one out to the side latching onto the still lit flashlight. With a twist of his wrist the beam of LED white light hit the rawhead in its dilated, subterranean eyes. It reared back with screech of pain and Dean used the distraction to kick out forcing it further back and away from him. 

Coming to his feet with a light speed flex of muscle and agility, Dean snatched up the Taser on his way to standing and took aim as he lunged to the side. He simultaneously got air and pulled the trigger. The leads hit their mark center mass and Dean slammed painfully into the wall of the tunnel, his boots coming down jarringly on the two feet wide raised concrete walkway. 

An exclamation of shock and surprise from the kid shakily standing up against the wall next to him had Dean thrusting out an arm like a soccer mom and shoving the kid none too gently back into the concrete behind them. His finger held down the trigger of the Taser ruthlessly pumping more and more electricity into the rawhead until it finally started to melt into a disgusting pile of goo and fur. By that time the Taser had run out of juice Dean was breathing raggedly, his hand shaking, his trigger finger stiff. 

There was silence for a long moment, Dean’s arm was still pinning Jeremy to the wall, and Jeremy was still gripping Dean’s jacket sleeve like it was a life line. They were both panting heavily and their hearts were nearly pounding out of their chests. 

Finally coming down from the adrenaline rush, Dean turned to the kid and slowly withdrew his arm. “You okay, Jeremy? Where are you hurt?”

Jeremy made an involuntary whimpering sound, before his visibly steadied himself and looked at Dean with dinner plate sized eyes. “I’m-I’m okay, but my chest hurts.”

Scanning his eyes over him, Dean took in the blood soaked t-shirt and the four gaping slashes through the cotton. “Let me take a look. Need to make sure it’s not too bad, okay?”

With a jerky nod Jeremy turned and held relatively still as Dean lifted his shirt and examined his clawed up chest with the flashlight. Gentle prodding fingers, and Dean let out a sigh of relief. 

“It’s not too bad. You might not even need stitches.” He told the kid giving him a reassuring smile that was tentatively returned. “And, hey, chicks dig scars.”

Jeremy let out a shaky laugh and Dean let his shirt fall back down. Holding out a rough, callused hand, Dean waited until the kid grabbed hold gripping tight enough to grind his bones together. 

He didn’t stop him, just gave him a small tug toward the opening into the main tunnel. “Come on, kid. Your friends are worried about you.” 

The trip back up the tunnel was much faster, Dean tugging Jeremy along behind him as fast as the kid could walk. He wanted to get out of the sewer as soon as possible and by the way the kid was pushing himself as he followed, Dean figured the feeling was mutual. 

As they came up to the alcove where the other kids were waiting, Dean slowed down and made sure his steps were louder than they normally were. He slowed to a stop and held Jeremy back from continuing forward. 

“Justin?” He called around the corner. “It’s me, Justin. You can put the Taser down. We’re coming around the corner so don’t shoot us.” He waited for a reply. 

“O-okay,” came the quiet and shaky response from inside the alcove. 

Letting out a relieved breath, Dean inched around the corner until he saw that Justin had the Taser pointed at the ground. All the kids had wide scared eyes staring at him blankly until they saw Jeremy whole and mostly unharmed behind him. 

It was like letting the air out of a balloon. The kids all sagged, and Dean could see that each one of them was fighting the urge to break down in tears of relief. 

“Is-Is it gone?” Asked the dark skinned Michael, his arm tight and unmovable around his little brother, Daniel’s shoulders. 

Dean gave them a wide, satisfied grin; his green eyes alight with a successful hunt. “Yeah. The monster’s good and dead. It can’t hurt you anymore.”

The smiles he got in return, made his chest nearly swell to bursting with warmth. 

*

By the time Dean lead the kids out of the tunnels and into the grey dawn air, all six of them were flagging. Dean had to carry Jeremy the last block and the other kids were all holding onto each other and using the tunnel walls to keep them upright and moving. 

It was plain to see that they were all beyond exhausted, dehydrated and starved. 

Dean grunted and gritted his teeth at the pain in his shoulder as he lifted each kid up to the railing of the bridge so they could pull themselves over and onto solid ground. It was painful, but he did it, there was no other option. 

He led them to his car, parked under a street light and looking like absolute heaven in all of her shiny black glory. Setting Jeremy down on the back seat leaving the door open, Dean popped the trunk and pulled out his old pilfered motel blanket, instructing the kids to wrap themselves up in the queen sized weathered cloth. He gave Jeremy his jacket and turned back to rummaging around for the water bottles and power bars he’d packed in there before he headed out of the house the previous morning. 

Passing the supplies around, the kids fell on them locusts. Dean couldn’t blame them one bit, he just hoped none of them accidentally ate the wrappers. 

Pulling out his first aid kit, Dean popped it open and moved around to the open back door. Jeremy was nibbling on his power bar sluggishly having already chugged half of his bottle of water. Taking out his pocket knife, Dean sliced the grungy, bloody shirt off the little boy and began the process of thoroughly cleaning and tightly bandaging his chest. 

He pulled his cellphone from the glove box and turned to address all the kids at once. It took a second to shake off the unsettling feeling he got when he realized that each and every one of them was staring, watching his every move like he was the only steady, solid thing in a churning, stormy ocean. 

“Okay.” He said to gather his thoughts. “I know that when you get back to your parents you’re going to want to tell them everything. Tell them and the cops that a monster took you, was going to eat you. I know how badly you’re going to want to tell them that. But you can’t.”

“But we’re not supposed to lie. It’s bad.” Little Daniel protested from where he was huddled so close to his big brother that they were almost melded together. 

“I know, it is bad, and normally you shouldn’t lie to adults. But you have to understand that adults aren’t going to believe you. They aren’t going to understand.”

“You believe us. You killed the monster.” Emily pointed out quietly, sticking close to her older brother, Justin.

“I do.” Dean confirmed giving them a small smile. “I do believe you, but that’s because my Dad raised me to fight monsters. I have always known they were real. Your parents, the cops, they don’t believe that monsters are real because they’re not raised believing. They won’t want to believe that you were taken by a monster because it would be too scary for them.”

“If we can’t tell them about the monster, then what are we supposed to tell them?” Akiko asked.

“Tell them it was a man.” Dean answered, crouching down to their level looking them all in the eyes. “If they ask you tell them you couldn’t tell what he looked like cause it was dark; say he didn’t do anything, just grabbed you and hid you in the tunnels. Say that he threatened to kill you if you tried to run away. Tell them that’s how Jeremy got hurt, trying to go get help.” 

“But what are we supposed to say about you?” Michael asked. 

“You can’t tell them that I rescued you from a monster, so just say that I found you all, scared off the bad guy and lead you out.” 

The kids all looked at each then looked back at Dean. They came to a silent decision and Justin nodded gravely. “Okay. We’ll keep it a secret.”

“Good.” Dean gave them an approving smile and turned back to his car and snatched a water stained note pad and chewed on pen from the glove box. He jotted his cell number down on four pieces of paper and ripped them off before handing them out. 

“If you ever need to talk about the monster,” he said, “if you ever get scared, or see something strange and monster like again, call me and I will be right there. I promise I will drop everything and come and check it out.”

Tension he hadn’t even realized was there melted and the kids all gave him quiet, but sincere thank yous. 

Dean snapped open his cell and dialed Detective Jeffery Hart’s number. 

It was answered on the second ring.

“Please tell me you have them.” 

“All six.” He replied promptly. “Scared, exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and relatively unharmed.” 

There was a breathy sound like a muffled sob then Hart came back on. “Thank you, Dean. Thank you so much.” 

“It’s what I do.” Dean said, shifting awkwardly, still not used to sticking around long enough to get gratitude. “You might want to bring an ambulance along with the requisite troop of cops. Jeremy got a little clawed up and lost some blood.”

There was a pause and a surge of background noise as the cops started to mobilize. “Got it,” Hart came back on the line quickly. “Ambulance is on its way along with half the precinct. Am I going to have to run interference with the investigating detectives?”

Dean glanced over his shoulder at the kids all sitting on the sidewalk next to the car, wrapped in his blanket and watching him unceasingly. 

“Nope.” Dean replied. “We’ve all got our story straight.”

“I never thought I’d be thankful for a victim preparing to lie to the police.” 

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” Dean huffed amusedly. “I’m staying with them until ya’ll show up. So get your ass in the car and come hug your kids.”

He snapped the phone closed and took a breath, preparing for the circus that was about to descend on them. 

*

The flashing lights, the cacophony of cops, and hysterical parents was giving Dean a headache but he stayed with the kids until their parents showed up and scooped them up in tight trembling arms. The EMT’s and cops all looked at him like they didn’t know what he was doing there, but the only time one of the cops tried to arrest him for “obstructing an active investigation” –code for being suspicious and shady- the kids yet to be snatched up by parents started screaming and crying and clutching at him. The cop was shoved off by Hart to go man the gawkers, or do something equally far away from them, and Dean was thankful. He didn’t want to get arrested for putting a cop on the ground. 

His hunter’s instincts were still cranked up to eleven and he had been two seconds away from making the cop eat concrete. 

Hart watched the cop go then looked over, studying Dean for the first time since he’d gotten to hold his children in his arms after two days of hell. 

“You should get that looked at.” He nodded at Dean’s bloodied aching shoulder.

“Nah, I can sew it up myself when I get home.” He gave Hart a quirked grin. “Besides I don’t have insurance.” 

Snorting, Hart just waved over an EMT that didn’t seem occupied by checking up on the kids. “You need to get that fixed before you keel over from blood loss or monster infection.”

Dean cringed as the EMT made it to them and started to push Dean into seated position on the sidewalk. “Seriously, I can just do it myself. I even got a sewing needle and dental floss in my med kit.”

The EMT looked at him in horror before just ignoring Dean’s protests and ripped his shirt open as if he was afraid Dean would just whip a Singer sewing machine out of nowhere and try to hem his own shoulder back together. 

Hart sighed tiredly and set a strong heavy hand on Dean’s good shoulder. “You saved our children, Dean. You took care of them when we couldn’t. Let us take care of you for once.”

Dean looked into the older man’s deep brown eyes, saw how very serious he was, how grateful, how the last two days of fear and helplessness had weighed on him. He finally nodded. “Okay.” He let out a shuddering breath and nodded again. “Okay.” 

Jeffery Hart looked at this man, this dead man that risked exposure, his freedom, and his life to rescue six children from a monster straight from childhood nightmares. 

He gave Dean’s shoulder a squeeze, looked him right in his bright, haunted green eyes, and simply said, “Thank you.”

*

End.


End file.
